The Wolves of Andover Read Online Free PDF Page B

will make it clear to the world that, though it take years, the seat of English government will not be deterred in its will. An exhibition of the hanging, drawing, and quartering of this criminal who held the ax will make a powerful statement, Your Majesty, to the people, and to Parliament.”
    “Arlington, do you know why I depend on you?” Charles turned and smiled perfunctorily, though his eyes remained thoughtful and hooded. “Because you are ruthlessly dependable.” In a distracted motion, he rubbed one hand over his closely shaven head. “Do you know what I wish for more than anything in this world?” He had spoken quietly, almost to a whisper, and there was a brief pause before Bennet realized the king had asked him a question.
    “I wish to dream of nothing,” Charles said, tracing with his eyes the opulent fittings of the room: the lavish tapestries, the intricate gilt-laden furniture, the mammoth canopied bed. “Giving me the body of the man who murdered my father will give mea quiet sleep.” He smiled lazily again, saying, “And, Henry, it will give
you
a duchy.”
    Bennet recognized the subtle signs that he had been dismissed: the look of restlessness on the king’s face, the turning away again to stare out the window at the beauty of St. James’s Park, the language of the Royal Body which stated, “You are no longer in my presence.”
    “Thank you, Your Majesty,” Bennet said as he bowed and left the chamber. He passed Chiffinch, returned to his post by the door, and thought, The next time you see me, you old goat, you’ll address me as “Your Grace.”

CHAPTER 3
     
    M ARTHA STOPPED HACKING at the weeds in the house garden and dropped the hoe to give her aching arms a rest. She cupped her hands over her eyes and looked across the adjoining fields, four acres in all, black and undulating from the rigors of the plow. The sowing had been well begun and would be finished before the next sabbath. She heard the strangled yerping of the old cock again for the hundredth time that day, made nervous and full of fight because of a coming change in the weather. She had learned to place such readings into the noises of an old rooster from her mother, who had recited to her many times, “A rooster crows at the sun and the moon, but peckish and quarrelsome, rain will come soon.” Rain would be a welcome beginning to the sprouting, even though the sky overhead was clear except for a few high wisps of mottled clouds far to the west.
    She heard the sharp squeal of the sow coming from the barn and knew John was feeding her extra mash to make her fatter. She had been held back from slaughter in the fall for breeding, and by the way her belly hung low to the ground, Martha knew theywould have piglets soon. Perhaps, she hoped, as many as eight. She sensed Patience was already regretting having promised to give her any piglets over the number six. If the sow had eight, then Martha would get two, enough to buy four yards of good cloth for a new dress. And perhaps a new dress would make her more attractive to a suitor than her present worn and spotted skirt.
    She had seen her reflection in a bucket of water often enough to know she had a kind of beauty, mirthless though it was; her skin was clear and unspotted, her forehead high and sloping. Her black hair, thick and ropy as a horse’s mane, was no doubt her glory, but she knew her brows knitted together too often to be pleasing, causing a deep well to form between them. But beyond all of that, she feared, she had too much force, too much animal vitality, to be winning; at least to any civil, unprotesting sort of man.
    Picking up the hoe once more, Martha called to her cousin, idling just inside the door, to come spread topsoil in the garden. Patience pushed herself from the door frame and slowly made her way into the garden. The smell of dried fish and manure, coming in waves from the bucket at Martha’s side, made her gag and she clenched her teeth.
    As she